


Asomar

by Hooda



Series: Anthology [5]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars
Genre: Angst, Asomar: show, Established Relationship, F/M, PTSD, a compilation of times Jyn deals with PTSD, rebel captain moments, spanish title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hooda/pseuds/Hooda
Summary: With Saw, there was never a moment of tranquility to call her own. There would be plots unfolding in the dusty corners of shacks set up for weeks at a time; crude camps that Saw prided himself on maintaining. She flits from assignment to assignment, becoming the best with every step she takes through the Partisan ranks. There is no guiding hand but Saw’s - the same one that moves her life around on a crude excuse for a map on an even sadder excuse of a war-table.At sixteen, her demons were lining up one by one in her mind, waiting to strike for her weakest moments._______Some times Jyn deals with PTSD.





	Asomar

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hate me; I like writing angst just as easily as happy stories!

_ “Loving me will not be easy. It will be war. You will hold the gun and I will hand you the bullets. So breathe, and embrace the beauty of the massacre that lies ahead.” (R.M.D) _

_______

**1:**

They come in quick flashes, like little bursts of nerves that pop in the most inconvenient or stressing times. Jyn cannot remember a time when the “terrors” never plagued her. It was always returning in some different form than the last: bouts of insomnia, the anxiety that hits her mid-mission, the night terrors that squelch the dusting layer of peace she finally feels, or even the tiny shivers that light across her skin some days.

Never once had she suffered from these ailments in her youngest childhood. There was always Galen’s steady cadence of a voice to whisk her into sleep, or the smooth press of her mother’s hand as she rubbed little Jyn’s back late at night until her eyes drooped shut.

With Saw, there was never a moment of tranquility to call her own. There would be plots unfolding in the dusty corners of shacks set up for weeks at a time; crude camps that Saw prided himself on maintaining. She flits from assignment to assignment, becoming the best with every step she takes through the Partisan ranks. There is no guiding hand but Saw’s - the same one that moves her life around on a crude excuse for a map on an even sadder excuse of a war-table.

At sixteen, her demons were lining up one by one in her mind, waiting to strike for her weakest moments.

The first time Saw catches her shivering is in the face of a desert sun. He had pulled Jyn along to keep her close during the negotiations with a smuggler, along with a sniper and two droids. The droids stay on the ship, cleaned and oiled for trade by Jyn herself.

Tatooine’s Mos Eisley had been a blistering mess of dust and sand, bantha bellows and merchant cries in the market, ships breaking atmo and small children speeding between pedestrians. White Stormtroopers huddle closely under the shadows of overlapping rooftops. Jyn had first shivered at the sight of their blasters.

With a tan scarf wrapped around her head and shoulders, she could hide the chattering of her teeth. It was like she had a fever, but her body ached to lay low and burrow into the sand until no one could find her.

They were careful to avoid the Imperial soldiers . It did not matter. They had initiated something so deep within Jyn she had no idea how to control her shaking body. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the buttons of the two dormant droids, watching them blink to life and whirl to attention. With a hand on the shorter one’s round head, she leads them back down the ramp of the rattled old barge Saw used and out into the sand city.

“Weakness,” Saw had huffed through labored breaths as he grabbed Jyn’s shivering wrists afterwards when the transaction was complete, “is unacceptable, my girl.” His dark eyes had flashed with what Jyn immediately recognized as dismay.

When she curled up in a corner of the barge for the trip back to base, Jyn turns nostalgic for the press of her mother’s hand, or even a whisper of Galen’s voice.

_______

**2:**

The first weeks amongst the rebuilding Alliance, she struggles to find sleep on the small cot they assign her in a room that is home to another three Pathfinder women. Instead, she listens to the soft snores of Naona - a bright and vivacious girl who punches as easily with words as her fists. Pari sleeps like the dead, a luxury Jyn wishes she had the patience and peace for after decades of sleeping light. Kera’s bunk was empty. She was off on a discrete mission.

Naona, perceptive and observant as she is, never mentions anything to Jyn when she thrashes awake some nights, shaking the top bunk. She never questions her tendency to leave the room and wander endlessly when the insomnia sets in for a stay.

_______

**3:**

Kes spends a mission biting on his fingers, the tips turning raw. Jyn’s hands are similar - bitten down and bloody to the nailbeds. It was a habit to the lieutenant and a stress factor to the sergeant.

“Could you  _ please _ stop doing that?” Yael begs for what might have been the millionth time when the little nibbling sound starts behind her head. Her hands squeeze the throttle of the ship’s direction as she maneuvers them through a series of loose meteors.

Jyn has to hide her hands away in her pockets to hide the blood from nibbling.

_______

**4:**

It happens for the first time for Cassian to witness when he returns from a mission, caked in grime. He smiles through the filth, flashing his bright teeth walking out of the debriefing but the light of the expression never meets his eyes.

“Heard Major Andor got into a brawl with a stormtrooper,” Pari laughs as she dumps her bag on her bunk. Jyn stops sharpening her vibroblade. Her legs hang over the side of her bunk, swinging idly in the air above Naona’s unmade bed.

“Must have been a bloody damn fight because he came back reeking and covered in filth,” Kera mumbles from somewhere under the massive bundle of blankets. Hoth is unforgivably cold now that the sun is only showing itself for a handful of hours a day.

Her dorm-mates laugh about a joke Pari makes as she slips down from the short ladder from her bunk, grabbing a pair of boots on her way out into the hallway. Other Pathfinder soldiers from different squads have been assigned to their own section of the base, their quarters a trek across base from the Specialty quarters.

Old boot soles make crunching noises against the icy ground of the hallways Jyn navigates her way through. Soldiers and droids idle by as she walks, but not for long because of the thickening cold of night settling into everyone’s bones. The exhaustion the frigid temperatures of Hoth leaves behind never ceases to annoy Jyn to the point of unrest.

It does not start when she is keying in the number to unlock his door. It does not start when he steps out of the refresher into the tiny space that passes for a room. It does not start when she takes the last few steps between them to close the empty space from being weeks apart on their respective missions.

The tiny trembles start when he holds his hands over the skin of her neck, her hands on his waist, their breaths weaving together. She wants to hold his jaw in her palms and run her thumb over the stubble that was steadily growing into a beard to protect his face from the cold of base, but she refuses to show him her unsteady hands.

Instead, she clamps her fingers tightly onto his shirt, trying to keep the trembles away. Cassian’s eyes glance down at her fisted grip, then back up to her.

She refuses to meet his eyes, instead focusing on a spot on the wall over his shoulder. Her body leans forward into his aura of radiating warmth until her chin rests just by his shoulder. Cassian’s arm immediately encircles Jyn’s shoulder, pulling her impossibly closer.

“I came back,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over the crown of her head.

“You came back,” Jyn croaks. Her hands grasp the material of his shirt tighter with every heartbeat that has them trembling harder. “You came back,” she repeats to herself.

“I’m safe and I came back to you in one piece.”

“Safe; came back in one piece.”

Stuttering breaths heave from her chest. They flutter over the exposed skin of Cassian’s neck. For a while they stand there, breathing words back and forth until the trembling recedes and Jyn unwinds her stiff fingers from the fabric of his shirt.

“How are going to put up with this?” she whispers nervously late into the night. He was somewhere between sleep and awakeness, eyes half closed against the darkness. Cassian’s arm around her waist provides the assuredness she rarely has felt in her life.

“Because I love you,” he slurs back sleepily against the hair at the back of her neck.

A few tears slide down the bridge of her nose, unknowingly to Cassian.

_______

**5:**

She sits bolt-upright from the night terror, her voice crackling with a broken sob. No sooner is she awake when the blooming heat of embarrassment turns Jyn’s skin. Strewn across the deck of their small barge, her Pathfinder squad-mates blink exhaustion from their eyes and turn to Jyn, tucked into a corner for the trip home.

Naona is the only one that moves. Jyn stares at her friend’s filthy boots as they pick around sleeping bodies, taking care to not step on loose hands or weapons. Her red curls tickle Jyn’s skin when she lowers herself down onto the hard ground, offering a shoulder to lean on. Jyn stares at the younger woman, unaccustomed to the benevolency.

So instead Naona simply grins and reaches for Jyn’s fisted hand.

“Sometimes,” Naona explains quietly as they sit side by side, “all it takes is for someone to reach out. That way the darkness isn’t so unbearable alone.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments - pos or neg - are always welcomed! - H:)


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